


Two Turtle Doves

by Aja



Category: Nero Wolfe - Stout
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Yuletide, Yuletide 2009
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 03:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aja/pseuds/Aja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archie has his own ideas about how to spend the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Turtle Doves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soupytwist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupytwist/gifts).



> Note: I so wish this could be longer, Soupytwist! I just ran out of time, but I had a great time writing this for you anyway. I only just discovered these fabulous, fascinating books and characters, so sadly there isn't as much detail as I know you would have wanted. Also, it takes a braver authoress than I to attempt to imitate Archie's idiosyncratic first-person narrative, but I have settled for staying in his POV. I hope you enjoy it despite these deficiencies of character! ;)

Four days before Christmas, Nero booms, "Archie! Archie!" from the office. Archie rolls his eyes at Fritz, who only winks at him and folds the French paper in half.

"Probably I'm to be sent to the ends of the earth for pickle relish," Archie says.

"Perhaps," Fritz agrees.

"Maybe he'll just stick with something simple and I'll only have to pick a cauldron of lentils out of the fireplace," Archie says. He stretches as he pushes his chair back. Ordinarily, without a case going on, Wolfe vacillates between sending Archie on pointless errands—last week it was berating him until Archie agreed to drive up to Montauk to buy a ham hock, because the bastard had gotten it into his head that the best hogs came from the Eastern shore because they'd been raised on seaweed—and fussing at him because he dares to brave the wilds of Manhattan when it's raining. The combination of pointless eccentricity and pointless hedonism is usually enough to make Archie head for the solace of a movie theatre, or a poker game with Saul and the boys, at least twice a week. Inactivity is a constant itch under his skin, and he relishes every opportunity to break free of the confined sedentary lifestyle that Wolfe imposes upon all of them whenever possible.

Archie deliberately takes his time about proceeding down the hall, and then just for kicks he strolls past the office in plain view of Wolfe and makes a point of straightening the coats by the front door. Then he takes a moment to admire the holly on the bureau and the garland hanging over the hall. One of the few things Archie and Nero agree on is that holiday décor lends a certain elegance to their surroundings. It's one of the stranger things about their crazy partnership that the thousand things they disagree on never seem to matter in the long run because the points on which they do agree have an almost beautiful sweetness about them, not that Archie would ever admit it. But it's moments like the way Nero gently suggested that Archie use an angel instead of a star at the top of their tree, and then gave a chuckle of satisfaction when they stepped back to admire it, that keep Archie coming back to see what the sentimental old hack will surprise him with next.

"Archie!" Wolfe bellows. "Confound it, your ears are sharp as knives."

"Just like to keep you on your toes," Archie grins when he finally saunters back into the doorway of the office. "Oh, but I have forgotten. You haven't gone on those since you were a little tyke having to stretch to reach the cookie jar on the counter."

Wolfe harumphs. "Your ability to make me regret the least amount of charity shown you is comparable only to your tremendous sense of entitlement."

"Well, sir," says Archie, still grinning, "a reasonable person might feel that they're entitled to enjoy their holiday in peace without being asked to venture east of the sun and west of the moon to bring back a perfect orchid for the personal enjoyment of his employer—"

"Archie, shut up," says Wolfe, and slides an envelope across the surface of his desk, his big fingers pressed flat over the ink that spells out Archie's name.

Archie glares at Nero out of sheer habit, and takes the envelope, letting his hand brush Wolfe's just to see him roll his eyes at the intimacy. "This had better not be a shopping list," he starts, opening it, and then he stops short.

"Not a shopping list," Nero grunts.

"No, sir," says Archie. "Not accepted, either."

Wolfe's eyebrows trundle together. "I don't suppose you're presuming to say you want more."

"I'm saying I'm not so hard up I'm going to take a bonus like this when we haven't had a case in three weeks," says Archie. He doesn't mention the giant row they'd had the previous week over money. Wolfe had wanted to purchase a genuine hybrid from an experimental greenery out in California. Archie had checked the books and refused to allow it, and worked himself up into quite a tirade over the subject of where their most recent windfall had gone. Now he knows the answer to that one.

"You're a sentimental idiot," Wolfe says. "I want you to take it and get out of town for a few days. Fritz and I can eat leftovers, and there'll be less waste with less people about."

"You've never eaten leftovers a day in your life," says Archie. "And if you wanted me to quit, you could have just said—"

"Don't be a buffoon," Wolfe snaps. "You haven't had a vacation in over three years."

"What, didn't those side trips to the hospital count?" Archie closes the envelope and places it into the pocket of his jacket. Then he crosses and sits on the corner of Wolfe's desk, facing him. Wolfe's eyes are narrowed nearly into slits. Archie likes them like that. "I'll go on one condition," Archie says.

"Hmph," says Wolfe. "This isn't a wager or a proposition. It's a vacation."

"Right," says Archie. "So make it a vacation and come with me."

"I see perhaps I should have made it an offer to quit after all," says Wolfe, "considering you appear to be parting ways from your senses."

"That's the condition." Archie says. "You go with me. We can spend half of what's in this envelope and live like kings for a month--as long as you don't mind eating the generic kind of meat that hasn't been fortified with seaweed."

His legs are already swinging; it's easy to lean forward and nudge Wolfe's giant thigh with his knee. "Bah," says Wolfe. "I have a thoroughly established reputation as a hermit. You know this as well as you know your own name. Why should I jeopardize it after having maintained it for all these years, just for--"

He goes abruptly still and a bit pink about the lips as Archie slips off the desk and straddles his voluminous lap and reminds him why he should.

"Maybe," he says after the moment's pause accidentally extends itself into another and then another, "it would be better if you stayed here."

"That's the first smart thing you've said since I walked in here," Archie mutters, tipping Wolfe's head back. "I like New York during the holidays." Wolfe's lips are working in what might be his approximation of the smile he only ever shows to Archie. "And I like you during the holidays," Archie says. "When you're not making me drive sixty miles for peacocks in pear trees."

"Believe me, Archie," Wolfe murmurs, tucking his warm hands at the base of Archie's spine and letting Archie decorate his thick neck with kisses. "One showy peacock is enough."


End file.
